


"Mine? (Yours)" Rewrite

by Queen_Martia



Category: Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Gen, Other, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Female Character, before she can raw moon, carnelian needs to learn to have a healthy brainplace, discussion of gender identity, i swear the story isn't as pretentious as my summary makes it out to be, kinkajou is a good friend, no beta we die like men, no sexytimes until they're both adults don't worry, seriously these two are so cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2019-10-01 15:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17246408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Martia/pseuds/Queen_Martia
Summary: This is a rewrite of an older work of mine. The plotline will vary wildly, and more time will be spent exploring the complex relationships between Moon and her mother, her grandfather, and Carnelian. Overall, however, the most basic elements will remain.---Moonwatcher, daughter of Secretkeeper, just wants to live a normal life with her family. She is content to study as a midwife under her mother and to speak with the girls in the village. Fate, it seems, has other plans. When one cold winter night she strays from her home into a chance encounter, her life is irrevocably changed. Carnelian, the rogue Pooka with a mysterious past, is now a fixture in her life, and with the war creeping ever closer, Moon's going to need all the help she can get.





	1. Childhood

Snow fell to the ground outside the window, little flecks of ice and rain all mixed together like flour and sugar. Moonwatcher pressed her nose to the glass, her breath fogging up the frame. The cold made her nose tickle, but she ignored it in favor of watching the wind whip little strands of snow across the grass. She sighed and turned away from the window, pouting. “Why can’t I go play outside?” she whined to Secretkeeper.

Her mother chuckled and ruffled her hair, curls falling in her face. “You’d be out there for five minutes before you came back inside, soaking wet and shivering. Besides, don’t you know what fearsome creatures lurk in the wild woods out there?”

Moon shook her head, clutching her poppet to her chest. “I thought all the creatures are in their dens when it’s snowing.”

Secretkeeper shared a smile with her. “Nay, all but one. The wily Pooka lurks the forest on the coldest nights. They look a little like us humans, but their backs and arms are covered in thick, scraggly fur, matted with blood and tangled with leaves. Their skin is white as cloud fluff, and their fur is dark as tar, and their eyes! Bright and burning as the hottest bonfire.”

Moon squealed with excitement, cuddling her doll. “More! Tell me more!”

Her grandfather chuckled from where he sat, rocking in an oak chair. “Bugs, you’ll scare 'er wit dohs stories.”

Her mother clucked her tongue at the nickname, moving over to stir the soup bubbling over the fire. “Aren’t you the one always insisting that she grow up? ‘Sides, even if they were real, Moon is baptized- the fae won’t hurt her.”

Eclipse sighed. “True so 'tis enoof, oi suppose. but you’re makin' dis pooka oyt ter be much more fearsum than so'tiz. Why, in me day, a pooka wus nathin' but a horse dat terrorized drunks!”

Her mom hummed. “In your day, everything was everywhere all the time, everyone was a hero, and no children ever dared to disrespect their parents.”

“Ah, not true so 'tis. We made galore av mischief, an' we 'ad our 'ides tanned for it.” Eclipse rubbed his backside sorely in the thought of the memory. “Never cud bring' meself ter chucker dat ter yer, Bugs. Jist didn’t seem roi.”

Moon, meanwhile, was playing with her dollie, growling. “I’m an evil pooka! I’m gonna eat you up!” she growled, throwing her poppet up.

Secretkeeper chuckled and caught the sewn doll in one hand, the other gently running through Moon’s hair. “Hush, dear. Pookas like to play pranks, but they can be helpful if asked. There is no evil and good in the world, Moon- only people.”

Moon pouted, reaching for her doll. “But what about the warlord that’s been trampling through? She’s burned crops and killed people! She’s evil!”

Secretkeeper sighed, handing Moon’s poppet back to her. “Queen Blister has her own agenda, but once she finds the Onyx Spear, she’ll reward our people handsomely.”

“Onyx Spear?” Moon repeated, all philosophy of good and evil fleeing her head. “What’s that?”

“It’s…” Secretkeeper pursed her lips, searching for the right words. “Father, how would you explain it to a child?” she asked Eclipse.

Her grandfather chuckled. “It’s a lead-tipped spear, an' wan whaich can only be wielded by wan av royal worth.”

“Royal worth?”

“Someone who is worthy of leading,” Secretkeeper explained, tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear. “While many interpret it as having royal blood, the famous hero Windstriker once wielded it, and she was born a peasant.”

Moon nodded with understanding, even though she could care less about the magic spear’s odd restrictions. “What makes the spear so special?”

“Well, it can’t be thrown raun wee chiselers, or under sunlight,” Eclipse said, beckoning his granddaughter over. Moon scurried over, purring as he ran a comb through her curls gently. “It can only be thrown by de lef 'an', an' it can’t be thrown across runnin' water. but once so'tiz thrown!”

“Don’t you dare tell her,” Secretkeeper scolded, pulling a spoonful of soup out and sipping it before plucking a sprig of dried rosemary from where it was hanging over the chimney, tossing it into the broth. “You’ll give her nightmares for weeks, papa.”

“Ah, ‘ush! Don’t yer want ter ear it, Shines?”

She nodded vigorously, clutching her dollie. “Yeah! What’s it do?”

“Once it 'its yisser body, de spearpoint spreads through yisser veins, turnin' into thorny spikes. Once de spear 'as stopped, you're wee more than a thornbush wi' buff.”

Moon shrieked in delighted disgust, while Secretkeeper sighed. “And the townspeople wonder if I’m the one doing this to her.” Her mother placed down a bowl of hearty soup of potato and lamb with dried spices sprinkled in, along with a thick slice of their good barley bread. She waggled a finger at Moon. “Now, you eat all of that up, or I’ll give it to your grandfather. Unless you’re not grateful…”

Moon sat at the table, legs swinging. “I am grateful!” she insisted with childish sincerity. She tipped the bowl back, gulping down the soup.

Secretkeeper sighed and gently pushed the bowl back onto the table. “Spoon, Moon.”

Eclipse scoffed. “She’s doin’ it jist gran’.”

“She’ll choke!”

As her mother and grandfather bickered, Moon continued tipping the bowl back, carefully slurping down her meal. Within a few minutes, her bowl was drained, and she was using the last of the grainy bread to sop up the broth.

“Chew with your mouth closed,” her mother instructed gently, tapping Moon’s chin. Moon nodded and swallowed, a hard lump of pain in her throat. “Careful, dear,” she said as Moon began to cough, pushing a mug of warm milk to her. Moon gulped down the drink thankfully.

“Why’re yer still givin' 'er coy juice?” Eclipse chided. “She’s twelve, she’s galore auld enoof ter start drinkin' mead.” He ruffled her hair playfully. “Cum on, Shines. don’t yer want ter nu waaat a rayle adult drinks?”

“Alcohol!” Moon nodded her head vigorously, swallowing a mouthful of milk. “Can I, mom? Please? All the other kids of the village do it!”

“I doubt that,” Secretkeeper sighed. “Still, I suppose I can’t baby you forever,” she chuckled. “We’ve got some honeyed mead in the chest. You can have a bit.”

Moon whooped, pumping her fists into the air. “Hell yeah!”

“Language!” scolded Eclipse and Secretkeeper. Moon nodded respectfully, before scurrying over to the chest. In it was a bottle of honey-gold mead. Moon beamed and brought the bottle to the table, placing it down gingerly.

Eclipse chuckled and loosened the cork on the bottle. “‘Ere yer goes, shines. It’s a bit strong if you’ve never 'ad it before, but once yer git used ter it, 'tis sweet as anythin'.” He hummed, then glanced outside. “De snow’s easin' up. Why don’t yer sup it outside?”

“Really?” Moon chirped, jumping up.

Secretkeeper shook her head. “Absolutely not! Father, you can’t be serious!”

Eclipse chuckled, leaning back. “She’s got yisser blud, Bugs. A bit av snow won’t 'urt de lassy, an' if she spits up, we won’t 'av ter clean it up.”

Secretkeeper struggled for a moment, then sighed, standing down. She grabbed a thick shawl off a chair and draped it over her daughter. “Stay where I can see you, alright?”

Moon nodded and hugged her mom, before sprinting out the door with the mead in her hands. She flung herself out the door, shoving it closed behind her. A gust of wind hit her face, and she whooped with excitement at the cold flakes that bit her skin. She pulled the shawl around her and tapped at the bottle.

The cork came loose, and the foam bubbled around her hand. She licked at the mead, surprised at the taste. Though it started off sweet and warm, as it passed into the back of her mouth it turned almost sour. She gulped it down faster, but the taste remained, bitter and yet alluring. She coughed, placing the bottle down.

Suddenly, she heard the soft snap of a twig in the woods. Her head whipped up, and she caught the shadow of someone hiding in the bushes before they disappeared. “Hey, wait!” she called, bottle clutched tight in her hands as she ran after the fugitive.

Moon shoved through bracken and brambles, chasing after the specter bounding effortlessly through the forest. Branches caught her hair, thorns cut her face, and grass clung to her ankles, but she pushed onwards, undeterred. “Come back! I won’t hurt you!” she called, the snow-tipped winds dragging her words away. “Come back, please!”

She let out a shriek as the ground suddenly dropped away, and she fell several yards into a rocky stream below. The thin layer of ice fell apart under her weight, and she floundered in the water for several moments before realizing that it only came up to her knees. She pulled herself from the stream, shivering and clutching her hands, shards of glass from the mead bottle embedded in the flesh of her palm. Her knees were bruised and bloody, scraped raw from the gravel bed of the stream.

“Mama!” she cried, tears falling down her face. They stung in the bitter cold, pulled along her face by the wind. “Mama!” she shrieked again, to no avail.

She held her bleeding hands to her chest, curled up against a rock to shield herself from the wind. Her eyes flooded with tears, both from pain and from fear. She sobbed, shivering. Her legs were beginning to grow numb, and her lips felt fuzzy.

A sound came, about three fathoms away. She sniffled, looking up slightly. “Mama?”

Across the stream stood a creature beyond her wildest dreams. Coarse black fur covered its shoulders and legs, marred only by scars and a lump of blood. It poked its broad snout forward, gray nose flaring at the scent of blood. It gave a low keen and stepped forward, seemingly unconcerned by the icy stream.

Moon grimaced, turning her face away from the creature. If she were to die here, she wouldn’t give the creature the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She thought back to her family, sitting in their little-thatched cottage waiting for her to return back inside. Her mother would be embroidering a skirt, little Brigid’s Crosses lining the hem of the fabric in a soft green thread. She clutched the fabric of her leine tighter, fiddling with the edges as the creature shuffled forward. _I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry_.

She heard the creature approach slowly, the only sign of its approach the sound of its nails clicking against the ice beneath. Its hot breath curled against her cheek, smelling of blood. She whimpered as the creature’s tongue flicked out, licking a streak of blood from a cut on her cheek. Then, to her surprise, the creature began to lick at her again, warming the skin. It placed its head in her lap, looking up at her with mournful eyes.

“You’re hurt.” Moon’s eyes snapped open at the voice, rough but human. The creature’s jaws parted as it gave a soft whimper. “You’re hurt… because you tried to follow me.”

Moon’s bottom lip trembled. “You can talk?”

The creature nodded, licking its white teeth. “Yes. It took me time to learn this land’s language, but I can speak.” It stood carefully, curling around her. Heat emanated from its fur and kept the chill of winter from her skin. It nudged her into standing, red-hot eyes staring into her. “Come with me.”

Moon shivered, her legs numb. “Are you going to eat me?” she asked, clinging to her hands gingerly.

“Nah, you’re too scrawny for a good meal,” the creature scoffed. “Besides, I’ve done enough killing in my life. Climb on my back.”

Moon nodded, dumbfounded. The beast knelt down, letting her climb up on top of it like she would with her family’s donkey. She swung her leg over the creature’s back, and it gave a small shiver. “I’m the reason you’re hurt,” the creature said. “So I have to make sure you’re okay. That’s the rule.”

Moon nodded again. “Okay.”

The creature swiveled its neck around to look at Moon, its lips parted in what she took to be a smile. “I’m taking you to my den. We’ll fix you up there.”

The creature trotted along slowly, its paws skimming over the snowy ground and leaving no footprints. After a little while, the creature had taken her to a small copse of trees, with a large hole in the roots of a tall pine. The creature nudged her off. “Come on, then. Let’s get inside and patch you up.”

Moon followed the beast down into the hole, not knowing what she expected. It was rather warm, a small fire with violet flames burning in the center of the floor. The walls were decorated with thickly-woven tapestries, their intricate designs like those at the local church. She ran an uninjured finger down one of them lightly, afraid that it might fall apart, but it was well made and warm. The scene depicted in the tapestry showed a great woman with a sword, stabbing a blue serpent. As she stared at it longer, the colors seemed to dance and move, and she could almost imagine herself being there, at this woman’s side in the battle.

“Hey, quit dozing off!” came a growl. Moon turned, face immediately heating up. Where the creature had once stood, a girl her age replaced it. The girl had warm barley skin and long black hair, and her eyes were a bright yellow, glowing like a lantern. Her hair was cropped short, almost like she had done it herself. Lower down hung- Moon yelped and raised her hands, flustered by the other girl’s nudity, but the shards of glass still in them stung, and she winced with pain.

“You humans and your modesty,” the girl muttered. “Hold on, I’ll put something on.” She walked over to where a simple cotton dress hung on the wall and quickly pulled it on, so at least now Moon could look at her without the urge to cover her eyes. “Stay here. I’ll get some alcohol and bandages.”

She maneuvered Moon to sit on a pile of furs. “Here, put this on,” she instructed, pulling a thick cotton dress from a chest off to the side. She gave one last glance before disappearing down one of the connected tunnels. Moon stripped out of her soaked garments, drying herself off with a spare towel before she pulled on the dress. It hung a bit large on her, but it was warm and soft. Moon sniffed the dress- it smelled like apples. She then placed her soaked leine and dress to dry near the fireplace.

“Hey, you’re supposed to stay still,” growled the girl, returning with a basket in her arms. She placed the basket down and plucked a set of scissors from the pile. “I’m gonna remove the glass first, and then I’ll clean the wounds, and then we’ll bandage them up.”

Moon nodded and surrendered her hands to the girl. She winced as the girl cut a bit of skin away to get at the shards, biting her tongue so as not to cry out. “You’re really good at this,” she mentioned, trying to make small talk.

“Yeah, I know. Some old guy taught me how to do it, and gave me this stuff when he died. I had to get good at it after he died- I was the only one around to help.” After a few minutes, seven shards of glass lay on a small cotton handkerchief soaked slightly in blood. The girl hummed with satisfaction. “Good. Now we gotta disinfect it.”

Moon let out a shriek as the wine was poured into her wounds, struggling. The girl growled. “Stay still!”

“It hurts!” Moon protested, writhing in pain. Still, she lessened her movements, though her toes still curled in pain. At the touch of a cool cloth, she let out a soft sob, relieved to find it was only water. The girl cleaned away the blood that sprang up, before pulling soft bandages from the basket. She wrapped them around Moon’s hands tightly. Moon hummed and pulled her hands to her face, rubbing her nose against the cloth. “Thank you.”

The girl nodded, a deep rumbling bubbling from her throat and chest. “Of course. You’re mine now.”

Moon giggled softly. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

The girl pouted. “But I saved you, and I bandaged you up, and I brought you to my den! You’re mine!” She whined, her eyes growing wet with tears as she climbed next to Moon, burrowing into furs. “At least stay with me for a bit?”

Moon softened at the simple gesture. “I have to be back soon, okay? My family’s probably still worried about me.”

The girl looked at her. “Your family… do you like them? Are they kind?”

Moon nodded, falling onto her back. “I never knew my dad, but my mom is nice. And my grandfather takes care of me when Mom’s out doing her rounds.”

“Her rounds?” the girl asked.

“Yeah! Mom’s a nurse and a midwife. She’s in charge of making sure that everyone in the nearby town is safe and healthy, and to check on the pregnant people. Sometimes she takes me with her.” Moon shuddered at the memory of when a client had gone into labor two weeks early, and the delivery wasn’t clean and tidy- so much blood and mucus, and the afterbirth had made her sick from the sight at the time. She glanced downwards. “You’re a girl, right?”

“Yeah,” she answered, curling into herself somewhat. “I call myself one, at least. When I was younger, everyone told me I was a boy, but it never really felt right. When the oracle called me “woman fair,” it just seemed right, y’know?”

“I think so,” Moon answered, wringing water out of her dress. “We got some clients who aren’t girls, but they still have babies. Mom says that it doesn’t matter what’s in your linens, just as long as you’re a good person who works hard.”

The girl curled up closed to her, breath warm on her shoulder. “It must be nice, having a mom like that.”

“Don’t you have a mom?” Moon asked. She sat up on the pile, examining the area and the girl. While the den was warm and plush, it lacked the maternal touch of a parent. “What about a dad? Do you have a dad?”

The girl shook her head, pulling a skin around herself. “Nope. I don’t have a dad or a mom or any parent anymore. And good riddance- they were awful! I can take care of myself all on my own.”

“That’s so sad!” said Moon, pulling the girl into a tight hug. “If you don’t have any parents, then who brushes your hair when you’re sad? Or cuddles you after a nightmare? Don’t you ever get lonely?”

The girl frowned and shoved Moon away. “Shut up! Stop looking down on me!”

“I’m not looking down on you!” she insisted. Moon’s head throbbed, and she turned her head away. “I want my mom,” she sniffed, wiping at her eyes.

The girl, distracted by Moon’s crying, knelt down by her side. “Hey, stop crying! I’m not mad at you anymore, okay? So stop crying, because, um…”

Moon’s hiccuping sobs echoed in the den, and the girl growled. “You’re mine, okay? So that means you can’t be sad!”

Moon sniffled and removed her hands from her face. “I can’t help it,” she whimpered, wiping her nose with the back of a hand. “I wanna go home. I want my mama.”

The girl sighed and nodded. “Okay, but I gotta do something first so that you don’t do this again.” She shoved a thick woolen blanket into Moon’s arms, before scurrying to a chest near the fire. Moon wrapped the blanket around herself and looked up as the girl returned, a thin silver necklace in her hands. “You gotta wear this,” the girl insisted, shoving the jewelry in Moon’s hands. “It’ll show everything that you’re mine, and they can’t mess with you. So you can visit me without worrying.”

Moon smiled despite herself, standing and fussing with her borrowed dress. She noted dimly that the ice on her leine had evaporated by the heat of the fire, leaving her dress wrinkled but dry. “I’m Moonwatcher, but Mama and the villagers call me Moon,” she said, extending a hand to the girl.

The girl looked at her outstretched arm, hesitantly taking her hand. “I’m Carnelian,” she said, shaking her hand with a firm grip.

Moon heard the snow was howling outside, and she pulled the blanket tighter around herself. “I don’t want to go back out there in this weather. No point ruining this dress, too.” She glanced at Carnelian. “Won’t you freeze in such a thin shift?”

Carnelian stretched. “Don’t worry. I’m not going out there like this.” She quickly shed the shift she had on earlier, but before Moon could get embarrassed, her skin began to bubble. Limbs contorted and cracked as she fell to her hands and feet, her arms growing longer and thinner. Thick black fur burst from seams in her skin, and her jaw stretched outwards until it was longer than Moon’s hand. The creature which had overtaken Carnelian’s body stared at her, its white teeth long and sharp as thorns.

Moon stood still in fear for a moment, before the creature nudged her. “Come on, climb on!” It was Carnelian’s voice, and her eyes glowed in the creature’s skull brightly. Moon let out a sigh of relief and pressed her forehead to Carnelian’s, appreciating the warmth that radiated from her.

“I’m ready,” she told Carnelian, seated on top of her. Carnelian nodded and slipped out, her paws skimming along the snow. Moon let her head fly back as the creature bounded through the forest.

She whooped as they abandoned all semblance of safety in favor of speed and exhilaration. This is what her ancestors had conquered horses for. This is why they attempted the same with the dragons of old. The speed, the chase, the thrill of feeling the wind in her face- she could easily become addicted to it.

After far too short a time, it seemed they were outside Moon’s home. They both panted, though Carnelian had more reason to. Moon slid off of her back, resting her head against Carnelian’s shoulder. “When can I come to see you again?” she asked.

Carnelian growled happily and licked her face gently. “When it’s not snowing.”

“It’s a deal.”

And with that, Carnelian disappeared back into the woods. Moon stood there for a few moments, still tasting the last of her scent before the wind stole it away. Then, she rushed to the door, pulling it open. “Guess what!”

Eclipse and Secretkeeper stared at her, curious expressions. “You were out there for a while, Moon. And what are you wearing?”

“Uh… my leine?” Moon said. She looked down at herself, noting that the dress Carnelian had given her was dry as a bone. She placed the spare dress on her chest. “I found this. Figured I should bring it inside, see if we could patch it up? It’s my size.”

Eclipse narrowed his eyes. “Shines, don’t yer be lyin' ter yer ma an' me. Tell us why yer was gone so long. Nigh.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Moon. What is this?” She unclasped the necklace, despite Moon’s protests, and held it up in the light of the fireplace. Her eyes widened, and she pocketed the chain. “Oh, Moon. What have you done?”

“I-”

“I let you out of my sight for one moment, and the Fair Folk get to you!” Secretkeeper glared, her eyes hot with fire. “Did you make any deals? Who did you speak with?”

Moon’s lip quivered, and she turned away from her mom. “I’m fine,” she sniffled. She wiped at her face, a bit of anger in her chest. “I know what I’m doing. And she didn’t try anything at all.”

“She?” Secretkeeper growled. “Who was it?”

“Her name is Carnelian!” Moon couldn’t help the bubble of protectiveness that burst in her chest. “And she helped me! She rescued me from the stream when I fell.”

“Stream?” Secretkeeper pulled her daughter’s hands to her, grimacing. “Why are your hands bandaged?”

Moon broke down crying. She was pulled into her mother’s arms, tearfully explaining as much as she could to her bewildered guardians. She told them of how Carnelian had rescued her from the stream, of the warm den, of riding on her back without a care in the world. By the end of it all, her voice was hoarse from crying, and sleep weighed heavy on her.

Secretkeeper sighed, brushing her hair behind her ear. “In the morning, I’ll take you to the cathedral and have a blessing placed upon you. That should ward off the fae for a while.”

“But I don’t wanna ward her off,” Moon sniffed. “She’s my friend.”

“You can’t trust the fae, Moon. They’re far more skilled with words than we are, and if given the chance the pooka would lead you astray. Besides, the worlds of fae and human were never meant to meet. This is what is best for everyone involved.” Secretkeeper carried her to the bed the two shared, placing her under the warm covers. “Get some sleep. Everything will be better in the morning.”

* * *

That morning, when Moonwatcher woke, her mother was already out of bed. Moon dressed slowly, putting on her warmest clothes. She found Secretkeeper on the porch, the cold winter wind whipping in her face as she stared into the forest. Moon tugged on her mother's hand. "Is everything okay?"

Secretkeeper was jolted out of her thoughts. "Yes, dear. Just thinking." She picked up her daughter, placing her in the cart. With a whistle to Kelsie the donkey, mother and daughter were off to the north, towards the old stone cathedral.

Moon was too tired to notice Secretkeeper glaring out into the woods, or the two red-hot eyes glaring back at her.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carnelian and Moon meet, seven years later. A choice is made, words are had, and a deal is struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot! Lesbians!  
> No shit, this is one of my weirder crackships, born out of an intense desire to see more Carnelian content. I love my angry Skywing bab. Of course, I make her a lot more toned down in this version, but that's because we haven't seen her angry yet :3  
> This is gonna be a longer story than I normally write, with some time devoted to Carnelian learning how to interact with society instead of running around naked in the woods like some kind of feral child. I know that I haven't written a lot in the last couple of... years, but I've been working on more original stories. Hopefully, I'll be keeping up with this project because I actually like writing the lesbian adventures of Anxiety Girl and Anger Lady (Trademark pending).

As time wound on, and the seasons passed in their endless cycle, Moon began to forget about her chance encounter with the girl in the woods, and she began to notice her own changes as well. The war raged on, never quite touching their village but always looming overhead. Young men were called from their homes to join the fight and never returned, more and more ancient sites were torn up in search of the mythical weapon Queen Blister wanted, and the farmers’ fields were being worked harder and harder to provide food for the soldiers.

Moon’s hands, once gentle and soft, had grown calloused from the heavy work she did around the household. She began to follow her mother on her rounds, learning the trade of midwives, and though sometimes her dreams flew to Carnelian, she thought it little more than a dream. Eclipse grew frailer, and Secretkeeper grew more gray hairs, and Moon grew up. By her nineteenth summer, she had surpassed her mother in height, though her bodice remained flat as ever, a fact which she lamented to the other women in the village.

“Oh, hush!” scolded Kinkajou from where they stood, just outside the butcher’s shop. “Stop complaining. At least you don’t gain any weight when you eat.” Kinkajou grabbed the soft fat of her neck. “Me? I’d love it if I could drop a few pounds.”

The baker’s apprentice was about her age, having been born only a moon before her, but that was where the similarities ended. If Moonwatcher was, well, the Moon, with her dark skin and ink-black hair, Kinkajou was the Sun, vibrant and bright with flame-red hair. And while Moon was muscular and lean from the farm, Kinkajou was just the right amount of plump.

“What? Why?” Moon wrapped her arms around Kinkajou’s shoulders, nuzzling her hair. “Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t make you any less beautiful, Juju. Besides,” she lamented, poking Kinkajou’s chest, “at least your fat is going somewhere.”

“Moon, love, if I could trade with you, I would. My back is killing me!” She bounced her breasts with her hand, glaring at them as if they were the cause for all her problems. “Evil, wicked flesh cushions!”

Moon yelped and averted her eyes. “Kinkajou, stop that! You’ll make me sick.”

Kinkajou sighed and chuckled, leaning against the wall. “Oh, please! It’s not like you don’t see worse, now that you’ve become apprenticed and what not.”

Moon groaned. “Our clients don’t shake their breasts in our face, Juju. Grow up.”

“‘Grow up’?” Kinkajou stuck her tongue out playfully. “Says the girl who thinks a Good Neighbor found her in the woods. I may be a bit naive, but I don’t make believe like a little child.” Kinkajou suddenly stiffened against the wall, hissing. “Shut up! Here he comes!”

The two ducked into an alleyway as the object of Kinkajou’s crush, a young soldier named Turtle, walked past with an armful of firewood. Kinkajou watched him with a fond expression, purring. “Isn’t he handsome?” she cooed.

Moon shrugged. “I think he’s got his eyes on someone else, doll.” They watched as Turtle purred and flirted with the baker’s brother, Umber. Though they couldn’t hear the words being exchanged, it was clear to both of them that the two were interested in each other.

Kinkajou whined softly and leaned against the wall, a glimmer of tears in her eyes. Moon sighed and rubbed her friend’s shoulders gently. “Hey, cheer up. I mean, there’s plenty of boys out there.”

Kinkajou sniffled and wiped at her watering eyes, her other hand clutching the hem of her bratt. “Yeah, but none like him! Turtle is… he likes me for me. Not for my body, but for my personality. And he doesn’t pretend to be interested in what I do, he takes a genuine interest in it.”

Moon sighed and pulled her friend into a bear hug. “Then he can be your friend, instead. Who needs boys?”

Kinkajou laughed and shoved at her playfully, some of her old playfulness restored. “You’ll be a spinster before you know it, Moonwatcher! Don’t you want to find a lover? Some cute boy to strike your fancy? A lovely maid to darn your socks in the cold of winter? Come on, surely there must be someone you care for!”

Moon shook her head, laughing. “Nope! There isn’t anyone who has my heart.”

Kinkajou raised an eyebrow. “Really? Not even your pretty leprechaun?”

“Pooka, and no.” Moon brushed a lock of hair back from her face, smiling softly. “Look, I’ll find a family when I find one. Okay?”

Kinkajou smirked evilly, reaching up. “Well, if you won’t marry anyone, then I’ll marry you! Be my wife, Moon!” Moon shrieked with laughter as Kinkajou groped at her, howling with joy.

After she had finally managed to pry her friend off and bidding her ado, Moon began her trek home through the woods. Birds chirped overhead, and rabbits sniffed along the path before spotting her and retreating into the undergrowth. She smiled as she caught sight of a little crow she affectionately called Inky. She let out a raspy caw to the bird, who cawed back to her and hopped onto her shoulder.

“Hey, Inky. Hold up, I got some cobnuts for you.” She reached into her pocket and retrieved several round nuts, which Inky took happily, flapping his wings. She scratched his neck gently, smiling.

Suddenly, the crow let out a caw, flying off her shoulder and into the woods. “Whoa, hey! What’s going on, bud?” She followed Inky off the path, brushing through grass and bracken.

She stopped short, gasping. There stood Carnelian, eyes narrowed. The pooka was much taller than Moon remembered, wearing a short brown shift which just barely went to her knees. Her feet were bare, much larger than her own, and long black fur ran up her shin. Tufty black ears poked out from the side of her head, flicking idly. She stepped forward, crushing thorns and grass beneath furry feet until she was breast-to-breast with Moon. Now grown to her full height, the Pooka was at least a head taller. She pinned Moon against an oak tree. “So now, you return.”

“I thought it was a dream,” Moon breathed, hand trembling. She brushed fingers against Carnelian’s cheek, stilling as the pooka winced away from her touch. “You’re real. I knew you were real.”

Carnelian’s eyes flared with anger and pain. “But you left me. You took my things and let me tend to you, and you left me.”

“Carnelian-”

Carnelian snarled, sinking her claws into the soft bark of the tree. “Seven fucking years, Moon!” the pooka growled, teeth close enough to the midwife’s face that she could see the crack in one of her incisors. “Seven years of waiting.”

“I’m sorry,” Moon murmured. She slowly removed the iron bracer her mother had given her, dropping it into the grass. She pressed her “I never wanted to hurt you. I regret leaving you alone all this time.”

The pooka grabbed her and pulled her forward into her chest, still growling. “You never came back,” she murmured, voice soft and sad. She collapsed to her knees, dragging Moon into her lap. “I thought you left me. Like everyone leaves.”

Moon’s chest panged for a moment. She had wanted to be with Carnelian for moons before the urge faded, and there were people who had left her alone willingly? “Never again,” she promised. She tilted her head up and pressed a gentle kiss to Carnelian’s cheek. The skin was warm, dry with dust, but she wanted to show Carnelian- wanted to prove that she wouldn’t leave her again.

Carnelian ran her fingers through Moon’s hair gently. “Why?” she asked, voice hoarse.

“Why what?”

“Why did… why did you come back?” Carnelian sighed, settling so that Moon wasn’t digging into her legs, instead just resting in her lap. “You’ve grown up. You could have a life of your own, get a job. I’m just- I will never have a place with your people.”

“Then screw them,” Moon answered.

“Moon, please, just-” Carnelian seemed at a loss for words. “I’ll only drag you down with me. I thought-” her voice cracked. “I thought I could just cut it off here. Why do you have to make me feel things?”

“Because I’m not giving up on you.” Moon pressed her forehead to Carnelian’s. “I love my life, don’t get me wrong. But I chose you- you’re as much a part of what I want as the rest of it. I don’t know why, but I want you. I want to be with you. And that’s not going to change- not now, not ever.”

Carnelian swore in some language that Moon didn’t recognize, falling back and pulling Moon with her. She shook her head, smiling. “You’re crazy,” she murmured affectionately. “Didn’t your mama teach you to run away from dangerous things?”

“You’re not dangerous,” Moon insisted. Carnelian snorted and rolled her shoulders, the scars there rippling. “Fine, you’re not dangerous to me.”

“Never,” Carnelian insisted. “I swear it.”

“I missed you,” Moon whispered into Carnelian’s neck, clinging tightly to her. “Every day, I missed you.”

Carnelian clung tightly to her. Rather than say anything, she chose that moment to push her hand up Moon’s shirt, calloused fingers running along smooth skin. “Fuckin’ beautiful,” she murmured. “You’re a goddamn treasure, you know that? And you’re mine.”

Moon gasped as Carnelian nipped at the skin under her jaw. Carnelian, taking it as a sign of pain, withdrew and looked into Moon’s eyes. “Does it hurt?” she asked softly, her expression anxious for a moment before the thin mask of indifference molded itself back over.

Moon licked her lips, spreading her legs ever so slightly. “Do it again.”

“Moon, I- you don’t know how dangerous I can be.” Carnelian glanced up, trying to draw away.

“I’d sure like to,” Moon insisted, biting Carnelian’s earlobe in response. The pooka shivered slightly and ran her fingers through Moon’s hair, tugging. This drew a hiss from Moon, who tipped her head back and panted. “If you’re gonna make me yours, then act like it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the pooka insisted, her voice soft. “Sometimes, I lose myself. I need to know- I can’t hurt you, Moon.”

Moon held her gently, cooing soft and sweet in her ear. “You won’t, I promise. Alright?”

“Fine,” she said, reluctantly laying Moon back down. She lapped up the crimson liquid that had pooled there and, at Moon’s insistence, began to bite harder. Carnelian growled and dug into Moon’s skin, nipping and lapping up the blood that sprang from the cuts. Moon writhed under her, moaning and whimpering in abandon. Carnelian brought her head back up and nuzzled Moon’s cheek, the scent of blood on her breath. “Look so pretty like this,” Carnelian breathed, her voice deep and brass. “All marked up and red for me. Wonder what you’d look like with my head between your thighs.”

Moon’s toes curled with pleasure and she grasped at the grass as Carnelian moved further down, nipping at her chest. She licked her way further down, nuzzling and kneading at the tender flesh on her hips. “Carnelian, please…”

Carnelian growled, pressing the palm of her hand to the inside of Moon’s thigh. “Beg me,” she ordered, pupils blown.

“Carnelian, I need-”

“MOON!”

The two women shrieked as a wave of ice water coursed over them. Carnelian threw herself back, shivering and grasping at her arms.

Secretkeeper scurried down the ledge, placing herself between Moon and Carnelian. She stabbed a short knife at Carnelian. “Stay the hell away from my daughter, fae, or I’ll slice you to ribbons!”

The sight of her mother threatening Carnelian snapped her back into reality. “Mom, stop!” Moon scrambled to her feet, clutching her wet clothing to her frame. She grabbed at Secretkeeper’s arm. “Please, don’t hurt her!”

Secretkeeper’s eyes burned with a fierce fury Moon hadn’t seen before, and she threw a dry cloak at her daughter. “So this is Carnelian,” she growled, tying the cloak around Moon’s shoulders insistently. She picked up the heavy iron bracer and shoved it into Moon’s hands. “The one who knows my daughter’s name.”

“Yes, but it’s okay! She won’t hurt me, I swear it!”

Carnelian sat, soaked, in the same place she had been before. Her eyes were darting around, but she stayed where she was. “Moon, it hurts,” she whispered, her lips barely moving.

Moon glanced at Secretkeeper. “What did you do to her?” she demanded. Secretkeeper pursed her lips and stayed quiet, so Moon pushed past her and pulled Carnelian up to her feet. “Hey, it’s okay. Are you hurt? Sick?”

Secretkeeper growled. “It was water, no more.” She placed a hand on Moon’s shoulder. “Leave her. We’re going to talk about this when we get home.”

Carnelian whimpered. “It hurts… feels numb.” She groaned, her form changing to something feral.

“What is it?” Moon hissed. “What did you do?”

Secretkeeper glared at the pooka. “Holy Water. I was bringing it home to renew the protections on the house, and I’m glad I did.” She waved her hands wildly, her hair springing out of the tight bun she kept it up in. “A pooka? Just when I’m thinking you’ve grown up, here you go consorting with the Sidhe!”

Moon glared, feeling her lips pull back into a growl. “Get away from her. Get away, and stay away.”

Carnelian shook her head, teeth chattering. “M-moon, stop, I- I’ll be-be okay.”

Moon pulled Carnelian even tighter into her arms, hushing gently. “You’re not the problem here, Carnelian. I gave you up once- don’t make me do it again.”

Secretkeeper reached towards the two again, eyes narrowed. “Moon, stop. Now.”

Moonwatcher stared up at her mother, feeling a crimson-hot rage build in her chest. “ **No**. You got her sick, and I’m going to help her.”

“Our family has never done anything but suffer with the Fair Folk, and I won’t let you make the same mistakes I did.” Secretkeeper grabbed at her daughter’s shoulders. “Please, for once, just listen to me-”

“I’ve always listened to you!” Moon cried, throwing her mother’s hands off. “I’ve done nothing but be obedient, and I’ve learned your trade, and done everything to please you, and you still don’t trust me! And if you don’t like it, well, tough. I’m an adult now. I have earned my place as a midwife, same as you, and it is my choice to make.” She turned to Carnelian, cooing softly to soothe the spooked pooka. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Secretkeeper shook her head. “Moon…” She glanced to where Carnelian stood, shivering and in little more than a threadbare shift, and then to her furious daughter, and something in her clicked. She turned away. “Do you… do you really mean it? All of what you’ve said?”

“Yes.” Moon felt shame boil up in her gut at the cruel way she had spoken to her mother, but she didn’t regret it. Her instincts had never led her astray before, and- despite all else- she cared for Carnelian dearly.

“I… I’m sorry. You’re right, I haven’t put much trust in you.” The midwife chuckled sadly, rubbing at her face. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Alright, if you trust her, then we will help her. But she must not stay the night.”

Moon embraced her mother tightly, a few tears escaping her eyes. She couldn't stay angry with her mother, even if she wanted to. “Thank you.” Moon led Carnelian to the path, where her mother’s cart stood. Carnelian sniffed at Kelsie the donkey, before climbing in the back with the medical supplies. Moon hitched the donkey up, and then began to lead the cart back.

It was a short ride back, but the awkward silence made the trip seem longer. By the time the cottage came into her sight line, Carnelian had burrowed into the towels and was starting to eye the bandages warily. Secretkeeper sat silent beside her, slowly moving the scalpels and herbal remedies away from her.

“We’re here,” Moon announced, scratching Kelsie’s ear gently. She quietly repeated the incantation that her mother had taught her long ago, pressing her hand to Carnelian’s shoulder until a small glowing symbol appeared on her forehead. “There. Now you’ll be able to approach the house.”

Carnelian hopped off without a word and pressed her face into Moon’s shoulder, stiff as a board. Moon helped maneuver her towards the door, when Secretkeeper came up on Carnelian’s other side and supported her.

Once inside, Carnelian bolted from Secretkeeper and Moon, rushing to the fireplace. She sighed and curled up next to it, dripping water all over the wooden floor. Secretkeeper groaned softly and hurried to the fire. “Come on, get up,” she muttered, pressing the pooka into a sturdy chair.

Moon rolled her eyes, fetching a towel which sat folded on top of a chest. “Stay still,” she ordered the pooka. Carnelian let out a whine of protest as Moon towel-dried her hair, wringing the water from her hair.

Secretkeeper picked up the ratty shift and sighed. “This is disgusting. Take this off before you get sick.”

Carnelian growled. “No! It’s mine!”

Secretkeeper shrugged. “Fine. Catch an infection, for all I care.”

Carnelian hissed, but a moment after pulled the shift over her head, placing it down on the floor. “There. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Secretkeeper said dryly.

Moon blinked in surprise as she caught sight of a dark burn, about the length of her hand, pressed against

Carnelian’s back. “What’s this?” she asked, pressing a soaked bandage to the spot.

Carnelian turned her face away. “It’s nothing.”

Secretkeeper frowned. “That looks to be a brand.” She glared at the pooka, though her previous animosity had seemingly mellowed out. “You’re not native to the land, I can tell. Where are you from, anyway?”

“The continent,” Carnelian spat, recoiling at the thought. “I hate it. I’m never returning to the Franks as long as I live.”

“You’re from the mainland? How’d you manage to do that?” When the pooka refused to answer, Secretkeeper sighed. “Moon, I’m going to fetch your grandfather. Stay here.” Secretkeeper swept outside, disconnecting Kelsie from the cart and riding off towards the cathedral.

Moon tended to Carnelian, eyes sweeping over her naked body. Before, she had found it arousing, but in the light of the hearth, each wound was distorted, worse than it actually was. Now she noticed the ribs poking out from the skin, the lesions and abrasions that showed a painful life. Blood and mud were streaked against her legs, scars and bruises marring her skin. “What’s happened to you?” Moon asked, wiping away at the crusted blood with a damp washcloth.

Carnelian sighed, going loose under Moon’s hands. “In general, or recently?”

“Recently, I suppose.”

“I was hungry. Tried to fight some soldiers, to get something to eat. They beat me, and I had to pretend to be dead so I could get away.”

“And the burn?” Moon asked.

“A priest saw me. He tried to exorcise me. It hurt.”

Moon gently scrubbed away at the dirt. “Poor dear.” She pulled Carnelian’s long hair up, glancing at her scalp. “How long have you had lice?” she asked, pulling a bug out.

“I dunno. A few months?”

Moon clucked her tongue. “Carnelian, that’s not healthy. You could have been infected with typhus.” She pulled a long comb out from her kit. “Okay, we have three options here. One, I could bleach your hair-”

A growl from the pooka made Moon roll her eyes. “Alright, no bleach. Two, I could trim your hair short, to make it easier to delouse you.”

“I like my hair,” Carnelian muttered, clutching at her head. “I don’t want to cut it.”

“Okay, then I’ll have to wash it and clean it, then I’ll have to manually pick the nits out.”  
Moon turned to reach for the lice comb, and when she turned around Carnelian had stuck her head into the fireplace.

“Carnelian, no!” She grabbed at the pooka, but stopped when she saw that her skin and hair were unharmed. She blinked, surprised, as the flames licked around Carnelian’s hair, cleansing but not burning her.

Carnelian grinned up at her. “Okay, I’m ready.” She sat back down in the chair, the last bits of the flames dying out on her skin. She blinked at Moon’s flabbergasted face. “What?”

“You- you stuck your head in the fire. How are you not dead?”

“Huh?” Carnelian tilted her head. “Right, humans don’t do that.” She shook her head out. “I couldn’t get any good firewood during the snowfalls, so I couldn’t cleanse my scalp properly. Sorry if I startled you.”

“Er… you know what? It’s fine.” Moon searched through her scalp, but only dust and ash remained. “Okay, forget it. C’mere.”

Carnelian let herself be pulled into Moon’s arms, pliant and gentle. Moon hummed softly, running her fingers through the pooka’s hair. Carnelian crooned, tipping her chin up. “This is amazing,” she purred, pupils blown.

“I’m glad you like it.” Moon nudged Carnelian into a sturdy chair, wrapping a thick woolen blanket around her shoulders. “I’m sorry about my mother earlier. She’s always been protective of me.”

The pooka nodded, settling into the chair. “Must be nice, having a mother around.”

Moon shrugged. “I suppose so. You’d like my grandfather more, though. He’s nicer with strangers than Mother, and tells good stories.” She retrieved an apple from one of the shelves. “Sorry it’s not fresher, but it should be filling.”

The pooka’s eyes widened, and she took the fruit with glee. “A whole apple? Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Moon’s curiosity took over. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten, anyway?”

Carnelian shrugged, sinking sharp teeth into the skin of the apple. She tore into the fruit with a vengeance, juice dribbling down her chin. After swallowing around a huge chunk, she wiped at her lips. “I dunno, maybe four days ago? Or five. Time is weird for me.”

Moon shook her head. “Is your den still in the same place as before? I want to walk you back, but I need to know the way if it’s changed.”

Carnelian shook her head. “No, it’s still under the tree. It’s not as nice as it was when you visited, though.”  
“How so?”

Carnelian hummed, wiggling in her seat. “The walls are starting to collapse into themselves. It’s wetter now, and the blankets are getting dirty. I think the den recognizes that I’m not its maker, and now it doesn’t like me anymore.”  
“What are you talking about?”

Carnelian shrugged. “I don’t know how it works for humans, but my people- we make our own homes. It’s a mark of shame to live in a borrowed den, unless you’re a member of their pack.”

“Pack?” The only pack Moon had heard of were the wolves that roamed the deep woods, and the mangy dogs that fed on the corpses left over after Queen Blister’s battles. The thirst for knowledge clawed at her skull, and her hands go still, comb stuck in the pooka’s hair. “Do you have a pack?”

“I had a pack,” Carnelian growled. For a moment, Moon felt the anger pricking along Carnelian’s spine, the white-hot pain of betrayal, before it settled back down. “Whatever. They don’t matter anymore. I don’t need a pack- don't need anyone. I’ve survived twelve years without a pack, and that’s not going to change anytime soon.”

“If you say so,” Moon murmured. “So I suppose that means you don’t need me.”

Carnelian stiffened beneath her fingers. “Well- um, that is- I certainly don’t need you, but I’d like to keep you, if you’ll let me.”

“Hmm, let me think. Well, I certainly could use someone to help around the house. You’d be paid fairly, of course. And it would be a good place to stay, if you’d like.”

Carnelian blinked. “I don’t know if I could do that. I- it’s not as simple as that. And besides, I need to earn a place, not just be given one.”

“Well, this is your chance.” Moon knelt down, taking Carnelian’s hands in her own. “If you want to earn your place, then earn it. There’s more to life than wild winters and the snow.”

The sound of wheels outside made Carnelian perk up. She got up and strode to the window, her eyes wide. “They’re back!”

Moon smiled softly. “You seem excited.”

Carnelian immediately shrunk into herself, looking for all the world like a scolded dog. “Yeah, well, they are.”  
Moon took off her shawl and wrapped it around Carnelian’s shoulders. “Here, keep this on. It’s not proper for a man to see a woman naked when he isn’t family.”

Carnelian fiddled with the tassels. “I have my shift.”

“I can see straight through it. No.”

Eclipse pushed the door open, his hand shaking slightly. “What's dis oi 'ear aboyt a pooka an' me granddaughter?”

Secretkeeper held onto his arm gently. “It’s as I told you, father. Moon vouches for her, if that makes a difference.”

Carnelian took a cautious step forward, clinging to the shawl Moon had laid over her shoulders. “Er, hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

He hummed. “An' de seem ter yer. Nigh, why don't we sit?”

Carnelian followed the elderly man to the table, eyes darting around. “Moon said I could stay. Can I?”

Eclipse looked her over for a good while. He gestured to the cabinet. “Fetch de tay, lass.”

Carnelian did as ordered, returning with the brick in hand. “Can I have some?” she asks, a hint of hunger on her tongue.

“If yer put de kettle on, yer may.”

Carnelian did as ordered, picking up the copper kettle and placing it over the flame, hanging from the same line they used for the stew. Her hands lingered on the metal until Moon gently pulled them away, leading her to the table. “Grandfather, Carnelian is strong, she’s capable, and she’d never hurt me.”

“I can defend myself, y’know,” Carnelian grumbled under her breath. “But I would like to stay. And work, of course, but. I can’t return to my den. I hunt, and fight, and call kill if you need me to.”

“Nigh, thar's naw nade for dat last wan.” He gave her a warm look. “Al' oi want ter nu is if you'll work 'ard an' work well.”

Carnelian nodded. “I can. I will.”

Secretkeeper and Eclipse shared a look. Finally, the old man sighed and reached a wrinkled hand out. “Welcum ter de family, lass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Carnelian learns how to do her chores, and meets a couple of Moon's friends. Hopefully, I'll have it out by the end of February.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carnelian makes some friends, Moon gets hot and bothered, and Kinkajou tries to reevaluate her worldview.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know this is a month late, but shit came up and I was busy. Next chapter should maybe (hopefully) be out somewhere late April to early May, depending on how much I cry.

The warmth of her bed was the hardest part of getting up in the morning. A gentle nudge at her foot made Moonwatcher groan, and she curled into the blankets further. “Five more minutes,” she whined.

Her grandfather chuckled. “Naw more av dat, lass. 'tis an 'our past sunrise.”

That made Moon fumble to sit up, pulling the covers up. “An **hour**? Why on earth didn’t you wake me earlier? Oh, I’ll have so many chores to catch up on, Mother’s probably left without me, and-”

Eclipse pushed her back onto the bed with a gentle hand. “Calm down. Yer pooka's been doin' yer chores while ye dozed.” He glanced over to the fireplace, which had a very large pile of firewood next to it. “Took ter it wi' a vengeance, too. She's a sweet lass.”

Moon rubbed her forehead, sighing. “I take it she did more than chop firewood?”

Eclipse chuckled softly. “She got de water, checked on de 'ens- gave de birds quite de spook- an' insisted on 'eadin' wi' yisser ma on 'er rounds.”

Moon sighed, standing. “Did she leave anything for me to do?” Normally she would do her chores with a steady vengeance, and once they were done she would either sketch the wildflowers that grew at the edge of the forest or go to town. She had gone to town yesterday, and she didn’t particularly feel like sketches today.

“De crops are untouched, so yer might as well tend ter dem.” Eclipse took a steady drink of his tea.

“Thanks, Grandfather!” Moon placed a big kiss on his cheek, before grabbing a clean dress and heading outside. Once she was alone, she stripped out of her undergarments and hung them up to clean later, then pulled her shirt on over her head. It was a simple thing, sky blue and made of cotton, but it washed stains off easily enough. Then, she pulled on her trousers and got to work.

It was steady work, tending to the plants. She was working in the garden in the morning, which meant that the hay field would be a sunset task. It had to be patrolled every day, and though Moon was supposed to kill the vermin she saw scampering through, the mice and rabbits that fed on the loose strands weren’t doing any harm. After all, they always had enough hay to sell to other, larger farms, and the livestock they did watch over were plump even up to the end of winter. What harm was there in letting the tiny creatures take what they needed?

Speaking of which, a tiny black bunny hopped out of the underbrush, wiggling its tiny gray nose at her. She smiled and broke off a tip of a mint leaf. “Hey, sweetie,” she cooed, holding out the plant as an offering. The kit took a small hop forward, taking the plant with a careful bite. “Yeah, I bet it’s really good, huh?”

She smiled and turned back to her work. There were aphids on some of the raspberries, tiny red bugs that she brushed off with a glare. “Nasty bugs,” she muttered under her breath. She normally had no problem with bugs, but aphids- along with ticks and mosquitoes- were on her shit list.

The bun kit hopped up to sit at her foot, sniffing at the roots of the plant. “No, little one,” she laughed, nudging the kit away with a gentle hand. “I’ll give you a treat if you behave, but the veggies aren’t for you to eat.”

The bun gave her an angry look- or, well, what Moon imagined a bunny would look like angry- and flopped down under the shade of the tomato plants. It stayed like that for several minutes as moon worked her way through the carrots, the rutabagas, and the rather extensive potato patch her mother kept insisting needed pruning. Moon smiled- no blight, and they were getting rather plump.

A high-pitched whoop caught her ear. The kit scurried off into the tall grasses, mere moments before a frizzy redhead came up over the hill. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Moon sighed. “Kinkajou, you have responsibilities and so do I.” Really, she loved her friend, but right now she wanted to focus on her chores. “How’d you even find me, anyway? We’re pretty far away from town.”

Kinkajou shrugged, ginger hair flying in her face. “I dunno. Anyway, you’ll want to hear this!”

“Alright, give me a moment.” Moon stood from her plot of dirt and walked over, unlocking the latch and opening the gate to let Kinkajou in. Unlike her friend, Kinkajou wore a simple skirt, dusted with flour and marked with old lye and ale stains. “Now, are you going to help me with the plants, or are you going to tell me this big secret that’s apparently important enough to blow off work?”

Kinkajou took Moon’s dirt-covered hands in her own, softly calloused after years of working dough. “Guess who has a secret admirer?”

“No!” She wasn’t proud of it, but Moon was a sucker for gossip. She gave a little squeal. “Gods, tell me everything right now! Are they cute?”

“I don’t know!” Kinkajou giggled softly. “But they wrote the most beautiful poetry I’ve ever read- it makes me flutter just thinking of it!”

“Is that so? Can I read it?”

Kinkajou tutted, turning away. “A lady doesn’t read and tell.” She clutched at her apron. “The letter- whoever it is, they have access to some high-quality paper. And it smelled like pine needles.” Her eyes got that dreamy look of a girl caught up in daydreaming. “Maybe it’s one of the soldiers from a far-off land, with pale hair and steel-gray eyes.”

“Aren’t you a romantic.” Moon took a handful of mint and murmured a few quick words over it, before blowing it into the breeze. The leaves caught on the wind, scattering to the four cardinal directions. "There. A charm for good health and good love."

Kinkajou rolled her eyes, leaning on the wooden fence. “What is it with you and witchcraft? One of these days the pastor is going to come by and see you do something weird, and I don’t want my friend being burned at the stake.”

“And I’ve told you, they’re too busy with the war to worry about what loyal citizens are doing on their farms. I’ll be fine. Besides, no one is going to come up to my mother and tell her to knock off her talent with herbs, are they?”

“I suppose not. But I worry, Moon.” Kinkajou placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Promise you won’t be doing things like that in view of those who can hold it against you, okay?”

“Alright, I promise, I promise.” Moon couldn’t help but roll her eyes once Kinkajou looked away. The last witch burning had been when her mother was a girl, and since then the church had been searching for any and all witches they could find- to no avail. Still, even the priests and deacons knew that there was a great deal of difference between a haggard witch and a kindly woman running her farm.

There was the sound of groaning wooden wheels, and Kinkajou looked up. “Hey, your mom’s back! And- huh, since when did you guys have a dog?”

Moon blinked. “We don’t.” She stood, dusting the dirt off her clothes. Sure enough, a shaggy black dog sat in the back of the cart, red eyes darting about. Once it saw Moon, it let out a loud, booming bark that rattled the wire on the fence.

Secretkeeper waved to her daughter, unhitching the back of the cart to let the dog hop out. It trotted over, tail wagging wildly. Kinkajou crooned softly, sinking into a crouch. “Here, puppy puppy puppy! Who’s a good boy?”

“Girl,” Moon growled, hands clenching the fabric of her outfit as the very fluffy, very _smug_ dog sank into Kinkajou’s hands, begging for pets. “She’s a girl.”

Kinkajou tilted her head, blinking. “But didn’t you just say you didn’t-”

“We don’t. She’s a stray.” Moon crouched down. “And a very ungrateful one, at that.”

The dog took that moment to lick Moon’s face. Moon sputtered and wiped the spit off her face while the dog panted happily, nuzzling into Moon’s bosom. Kinkajou smirked. “Looks plenty grateful to me, darling.”

The dog blinked, then whined, burrowing into Moon’s arms with pleading eyes. Moon rolled her eyes. “It’s a term of endearment between friends. Calm down.”

Kinkajou snickered. “Aww, someone’s jealous.”

Moon silently cursed the goddesses, for the dog chose this moment to reveal her true form. Fur disappeared into flesh, long black hair sprouted from her head, and a naked Carnelian was clinging to Moon, glaring at a stunned Kinkajou.

The three were speechless for a moment. Kinkajou was making choking noises, glancing between Moon and Carnelian, her face growing more flushed by the second. Moon let out a soft groan, her head in her hands at how Carnelian had thrown away her secrecy to make a trivial point and silently hoping that Kinkajou would keep quiet once it was all explained. Carnelian, for her part, looked rather smug with the whole situation. She was busy nuzzling into Moon's arms, never mind her naked flesh out in the open for everyone to see.

Moon couldn’t take it anymore. She gently pushed Carnelian aside. “Kinkajou, I can explain-”

“What the actual fuck, Moon?” Kinkajou sounded dizzy, lightheaded. She began to giggle, clutching at her red hair. “It’s really- the goddamn pooka - and now she’s your- and you-”

Secretkeeper sighed, making her slow way to the garden. “Carnelian, remember that talk we had about keeping this quiet?”

“Yes,” the pooka crooned. She stretched, skin rippling over her ribs. “But you said this was Moon’s friend. And if Moon trusts her, then I do too.”

“I think you broke her,” the midwife commented. Kinkajou did look pretty broken, murmuring softly to herself. “Kinkajou, sweetheart, how does some tea sound right now?” Secretkeeper helped the young woman up to her feet, herding her towards the house.

Carnelian purred, turning away from the retreating women to Moonwatcher. “I think that went well.”

Moon sighed. “Remind me why I invited you to stay here?”

“Because you love me.”

Moon felt her face grow hot at the suggestion. She certainly cared for Carnelian, that was a given- but love? That was a serious commitment. She coughed softly. “That’s still no excuse for scaring my friend. And if you were really that jealous, you could have done literally anything else.”

Carnelian’s face fell. “I thought you’d be happier to see me.”

Moon sighed. She stood, pulling Carnelian to her feet and trying very hard not to look at her in a provocative manner. “I am,” she confessed, walking to the cart and pulling out what must have been Carnelian’s clothes before she had taken that dog form- a loose cotton dress and leggings. She pressed them into Carnelian’s hands gently. “But I’m also mad that you pulled that stunt with someone you didn't even know. And most importantly, I still want to be cautious about this whole thing. I mean, I meet you after seven years, and now you’re trying to court me?”

“Court?” Carnelian rolled the term around in her mouth, confused.

Moon tilted her head. “Woo. Flirt. Win my affections.”

A soft sound of understanding escaped the pooka. “Oh! Yeah, I’m doing that. Is that a bad thing?”

“Well. No, I do like you. And I want to get to know you better. But I can’t help but feel like we’re rushing into things. Like, what if we get older, and you want to find someone else?”

“I won’t.” And she said it so surely, so full of sincerity, that Moon wanted to believe her. “You are the only person- the only one who’s ever seen me as me.”

“And that’s what I’m worried about!” Moon took a bundle of her mother’s herbs- it wouldn’t do for them to stay in the cart in the middle of the summer heat. “Carnelian, ever since I’ve met you, you were the one doing things for me. This- this idolization of me- it’s not healthy for anyone. And if what you say is true- and I have no reason to believe it’s not- then you need more positive interactions with other people. A chance to broaden your horizons, to see what life has to offer.”

“But I don’t want to. I want to stay with you.”

Moon took a deep breath. It was like arguing with a tree. Well, if she wasn’t going to get results any other way, it was time to resort to underhanded methods. She gave Carnelian a soft look, eyes pleading. “Please, Carnelian? Just- for me?”

The pooka’s bottom lip trembled, and she sighed. “Fine. But I don't like it.”

“You won’t know until you try it. And friends will be good for you.”

“When are you heading to town? I’ll go with you then.”

“And you’ll keep your clothes on this time?”

Carnelian licked her lips. “I thought you liked it better when I have them off?”

“Not with other people around!” Moon flushed at the thought; the mere idea of other people seeing Carnelian in her goddess-given body made her blood run hot with dark, possessive thoughts. She took a deep breath to try and handle her emotions, forcing her hands to relax. “What you do with your body is your choice, not mine, but you should probably wear clothes around others.”

She turned away, but couldn’t help the squeak that escaped her mouth as Carnelian pressed up against her, purring. “My choice, huh? Then what I want-” and at this, she put her mouth on Moon’s ear, breath hot against her skin, “-what I want is a long, hot bath.”

It took a moment for the words to catch up to Moon’s frayed brain. “A- what?”

Carnelian laughed, rolling her shoulders. “See, I’m not the only impatient one here.” She took a towel from the cart. “I’m going to take a bath. You should head inside before Missus is after me, thinking I tainted her daughter.”

Moon took a moment to collect herself, gripping the wooden edge of the cart. Carnelian was right- much as she wanted this, and _goddess_ did she want it, they couldn’t just rush into it. It wasn’t enough to call it a day- there were steps to be taken, choices that needed to be made. And rushing into things wasn’t her way- never was, never would be.

Once her face was no longer hot enough to boil water, she gathered herself and padded inside. As she thought, Kinkajou was at the table with Secretkeeper, sipping from a cup of tea. The two women looked up at her, and Moon noted that Kinkajou looked a little more relaxed now.

“So,” Kinkajou murmured, setting her cup down. “It’s true, then. All of it.”

“Yes, love.” Secretkeeper stood, ushering Moon to the bench. “Our land has always had the magicks to it. Not its fault that us humans are so foolish and forgetful.” She shot a look to where Eclipse was laying down, the hunch of his shoulders growing worse every day. “So many medicines lost. So many practices gone. Even I have only a fraction of the power that my ancestors might have had.”

Kinkajou took a deep breath, then a sip of her tea. “And the pooka?”

“Well-meaning, if a bit energetic.” Secretkeeper took a breath, considering her options. “The same one as seven years ago, yes?”

Moon nods. “Her name is Carnelian.”

“She agreed to work for us, in exchange for food and board. Though she did seem confused when I offered wages.”

“She doesn’t know what money is?”

“More like she didn’t understand why I would be paying her.” Secretkeeper shot a glance to Kinkajou. “That reminds me, dear. Your apprenticeship should be ending in a few months, yes?”

“Yeah.” Kinkajou took another sip of her tea. She ran a hand through her frizzy hair, a bit of life returned to her now that the topic was something more mundane. “I’ve got a job lined up working for another baker. His hands aren’t as good as they used to be, see, and he was friends with my mother way back when.”

“Oh, is it Mangrove? He and Orchid were talking about a new employee last time I visited.” Moon smiled at the memory- the two were an older couple a few miles away. They had always wanted children, and often whenever Moon visited as a little girl, one or both of them would slip her a few sweets while Secretkeeper wasn’t looking.

Kinkajou nodded. “I was thinking I’d use what I have saved up to buy some land. I’m thinking close enough to town that I won’t have to travel far, but deep enough in the woods for some privacy. Someplace with lots of sunshine and fertile soil. Maybe get a place set up where I can raise children.”

Secretkeeper clucked her tongue. “Kinkajou, you’re rather young to be thinking about children.”

Kinkajou looked like she wanted to argue, but Carnelian chose that moment to walk in, glancing about the small house. She gave a small wave to Kinkajou. “Hi.”

Kinkajou waved back, a strained smile on her face. “Hello again. Carnelian, right?”

The pooka nodded, stretching. She had her clothes on, thank the goddesses, with her long black hair pulled up into a bun. Water dripped down her skin in some places, but she was clean. “So,” she said, drawing out the ‘O’, “I imagine I’m in a bit of trouble.”

Secretkeeper sighed. “Considering what could have happened, I think we can call this a learning experience. For now, why don’t you apologize to Kinkajou for freaking her out?”

“Oh, right. Sorry about that.” Carnelian took a few steps forward until she was at the table, her grin sheepish. “Friends?”

Kinkajou took a deep breath. “Maybe not right away. But I would like to get to know you. And- all of this.” She gestured around vaguely. “I have Saturday off. Moon and I usually go to market then, but if you want then you can come along if Moon is alright with that?”

Moon nodded, a bit relieved at how the situation had worked out. “I am more than okay with that.”

Carnelian gave a shit-eating grin. “I’m doing the thing you told me to do.”

“What?”

“Making friends. I’m doing that.”

Moon sighed. “Sure, Carnelian.” It was true, after all. Maybe, if the stars aligned and the creek didn’t rise, things could work out just this once.

Still, Moon wouldn’t get her hopes up just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I don't like writing Eclipse's dialogue? Because I don't like writing Eclipse's dialogue.  
> Next chapter- the girls go to the market, get stopped by commander asshole, and meet some suspicious soldiers who they feel might make valuable allies.


	4. Interlude: Thunderstorms and Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before a trip to the market, a thunderstorm rocks the farm. Carnelian freaks out, Moon comforts her not-girlfriend, and Secretkeeper is a good mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be entirely honest, this was written in six hours and only because I'm stalling on the next real chapter. Please enjoy some gay shit.

There was a shoving at her arm. “Moon? Moon, wake up!”

Moonwatcher groaned and rubbed her eyes, groaning. “What the- Carnelian, what time is it?”

Before Carnelian could answer, a loud roll of thunder shook the house. Carnelian squeaked and buried herself under Moon’s arms, shaking hard enough to shake the bed.

Moon sighed and wrapped her arms around the pooka, cooing gently. “I know, I know. I won’t let you get hurt, I promise.”

The pooka wailed as another strike of lightning hit a tree outside, thunder rolling across the farm. She sobbed into Moon’s nightgown, fingernails clinging to her. “I know- I know it’s just noise, but-”

Moon hushed her gently, fingers carding through Carnelian’s long black hair. “It doesn’t have to make sense. You’re allowed to be scared, Carnelian.”

There was a stirring in the bed a few meters away. “Huh? Moon, what’s got you up?” Secretkeeper waved her hand, lighting a small candle. She blinked at Carnelian curled into Moon’s chest and her daughter’s apologetic face, then sighed. “I’ll put on some tea.”

Carnelian sniffled, burrowing into the blankets. “Can I have cream in it?”

“Of course, dear.” Secretkeeper piled some firewood into the hearth while Moon fetched the tin of the special herbal stuff they used when clients were in pain or couldn't sleep.

“And honey?”

“And honey.”

Carnelian shuffled over to the table, wrapped in Moon’s blankets. When another flash of lightning hit a tree outside, Carnelian dropped to the floor, shaking. “I hate this land, I hate thunder, I hate my life!”

Moon shushed her gently, pulling her into a princess carry. The pooka was heavy, sure, but Moon wasn’t working on a farm for nothing, and years of cutting wood and lifting bales of hay from field to barn to cart, Moon could hold her own weight and a bit more. Carnelian was a bit of a strain, but she managed to bring the pooka to the table.

Carnelian sniffled, wiping at her face. “Gods, I’m a mess. I’m sorry.”

Secretkeeper tilted her head, turning away from the kettle for a moment. “What for, dear?”

“For waking you up.” The pooka rubbed at her eyes, smearing tears across her face. “For having this stupid- thing.” A softer growl of thunder filled the air, and Carnelian sobbed, burying her face in her arms. “This is pathetic, I’m so sorry.”

Moon frowned. “Whoever made you think that, tell me so I can find them and put them out of your misery.” She pulled Carnelian into a tight hug, scratching her scalp the way Secretkeeper used to when she was a kid. “I know you think you have to hide this, but you’re a part of the family now. You can come to us for help.”

Secretkeeper nodded, pulling the two girls into her arms. “This storm will pass, but we’ll still be here. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

The three could have stayed there for hours, it felt like. A mother, her daughter, and the girl they’d taken in- weird as it was, the three had found some sort of understanding. But then a high-pitched whistling pierced the air.

“THE KETTLE!” Secretkeeper rushed to the hearth, throwing on a pair of mitts before taking the kettle of hot water off the fire. She sighed, setting it to cool for a few minutes.

The girls looked to the midwife, who was frantically trying to find a way to quiet the kettle. Then, Carnelian began to laugh softly, Moon joining her after a moment. Once the two had calmed down, Secretkeeper sighed and scooped a bit of the herbal tea into a cup. “If you girls wake my father up, I’m kicking you both out into the rain.”

Carnelian giggled, burying her face in Moon’s neck. Moon smiled, stroking the coarse hair that grew on the back of the pooka’s neck. Dimly, Moon noted that while the rain was still going hard, the thunder seemed to have passed on. She reached for the mug her mother had put down, stirring in the cream and honey that had sunk to the bottom of the cup. “Here,” she whispered, pressing it into Carnelian’s hands.

The pooka sipped obediently, making a soft pleased sound. “It’s really good,” she told Secretkeeper. “Thank you.”

The woman nodded, ruffling Carnelian’s hair gently. “Of course, dear.”

After a few minutes, the mug was empty, and Carnelian was beginning to nod off. Secretkeeper nudged her. “Go out and relieve yourself before you go to bed again.”

The pooka nodded, yawning. “’ Kay.” She slipped out the door, leaving a tired Moon and her mother at the table.

Secretkeeper pressed a gentle kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Go back to bed, love. You’ve got a long day at market tomorrow with your friends.”

Moon nodded, picking up the blankets that Carnelian had left on the floor. “’ Night, mama.” She snuggled back into her bed, letting sleep reclaim her.

A few moments later, a soaking-wet pooka curled up at the foot of her bed. Moon smiled and reached her hand out, and felt cold fingers take it. And together, the two drifted off into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next full-paced chapter should be out by the end of May.


	5. Marketplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls go to market, and Carnelian reveals a bit of her story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws this here without comment and runs out the door*

It was still early morning when there was a knock on the door. Moon groaned and pulled the sheets off, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Carnelian, curled up at the foot of her bed in dog form, lifted her head and yawned.

“Moon! Are you in there?” came a familiar voice.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” she grumbled, wiping at her eyes. Moon padded over to the door, Carnelian following after her with her tail wagging. She opened the door to a giddy Kinkajou and their mutual friend, Tamarin.

“There you are!” Kinkajou purred, pulling Moon into a tight hug. “Thought you’d gone to market without us or something. It’s alright if I bring Tamarin, right?”

“Course it is.” Moon held out a hand in case Tamarin needed it. “Hello, Tamarin. How are you?”

“I’m well, Moonwatcher. May I come in?” The girl stepped over the threshold carefully, her footsteps cautious yet firm- as always, the blind girl seemed to know where to step just by instinct.

Carnelian flicked her tail and headbutted Moon, silent pleading for an explanation evident in her eyes. Moon nodded, running her hand across Carnelian’s head. “Don’t worry, Carnelian. This is Tamarin, a friend of Kinkajou and an acquaintance of mine.”

Mollified, Carnelian stood on her hind legs, letting fur retreat as she took on a more human form. Kinkajou shuffled, seemingly unnerved by it, but for Moon it was honestly a tad boring at this point. Once Carnelian was at her full height, she grinned in all her naked beauty. “Nice to meet you, miss Tamarin. Sorry I didn’t speak earlier.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright.” Tamarin dipped into a small curtsy. “Kinkajou mentioned that you’d be joining us for the marketplace.”

Moon huffed, crossing her arms. “Not if she doesn’t get dressed, she’s not.” She dragged Carnelian over to the bench, before opening her dresser. “What do you think?” she asked Carnelian. “Shirt and trousers, or dress?”

“Dress,” Carnelian grunted. “Easier to put on.”

Kinkajou’s pale face was flushed red, and she turned away from the naked woman seated at the table. “Are you shameless?”

Carnelian rolled her eyes. “The only reason I wear clothes is because if I didn’t, Moon would never be able to focus.”

“Shut up,” Moonwatcher hissed, shoving the dress over Carnelian’s head. “I’m not some harlot.”

Carnelian let out a soft laugh. “I know, it’s just fun to tease you.”

Tamarin cleared her throat softly. “I do hate to interrupt, but we’ll need to head to market soon if we don’t want the miss the best items. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to stop by the apiarist's stall while we’re there.”

Carnelian paused midway through pulling a dress on, one arm still caught in the sleeve. “What’s an apiarist?” she asked as Moon fussed around her, adjusting the dress so that it looked slightly more presentable.

“A beekeeper.” Tamarin pulled her satchel in front of her, unlocking the clasp as she pulled out a sprig of scabious and held it out. “See how this is all soft and wilted? The hive near my cottage has started dying off, and I need to figure out what’s killing my bees.”

Carnelian took the sprig, her head tilted with confusion. “Why would you risk getting stung to fetch a wildflower?”

Tamarin shook her head. “That’s not just any wildflower. It’s Devil’s Bit, useful for curing fevers when brewed in a tea.” Tamarin took a careful seat at the table. “I’m an herbalist. Along with my friend, Peregrine, I do generalized work in the medical field using medicinal plants.”

Carnelian gave a soft, appreciative sound. “Oh, I get it! You’ll need the bees to help pollinate your herbs, right?”

“Yes, and I’ll need a guide while I’m heading around. I’m also looking to purchase a bit of honey. Honey has wonderful properties when it comes to healing, you know, but it also goes well with just about any food.”

Moon couldn’t help a small smile from creeping onto her face as the two chatted, her hands busily pulling Carnelian’s long hair into a braid. It had been hard work at first, washing out all the built-up grime and dirt in the pooka’s hair, but now that Carnelian actually took care of it, it was the most beautiful thing Moon had ever seen. Idly, she looped one strand around her finger, admiring the shine and bounce to it.

“Enjoying yourself, Moon?” came Kinkajou’s voice from behind her. Moon gave a little squeak and dropped Carnelian’s half-done braid. The baker laughed softly, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Calm down, love. Never said you did anything wrong.”

Carnelian tilted her head up. “I thought you said she was just a friend,” she growled softly, a hurt note to her voice.

“She is,” Moon reassured. “We used to date, though, and old habits die hard.”

Tamarin cocked her head. “Carnelian, tell me about yourself. I know only that you’re living with Miss Keeper, and that you and Moon seem to be close. Where are you from?”

Carnelian laughed, stretching. “Well, I’m from the continent, down near the Straits. Traveled with my family for a while, then some stuff happened, and now I’m living here.”

“I see. And how did you meet Moon?”

“Er...” the pooka glanced back to Moon, who stifled a giggle and leaned down to press a kiss to Carnelian’s cheek. Surprisingly, Carnelian’s face grew hot, and she coughed into her fist, lifting her chin. “You know. I help her, she helps me, and we sort of clicked together. I needed a place to stay, anyway, and it just worked out.”

Tamarin hummed, retrieving a small flask from her bag. “So you’re a laborer? Don’t see many like you out in the rural areas.”

“Come again?”

Once Tamarin was finished drinking (probably some medication- Moon seemed to remember Tamarin telling her once that her allergies were worst before a big storm, so she’d have to secure the livestock in the barn tonight), she wiped her mouth and sighed. “A traveling worker, someone who drifts from place to place searching for a job. You are one, right?”

Carnelian bit her lip. “No… not exactly.”

Tamarin laughed softly. “An army deserter, then? Can’t say I blame you.” She stood, her bag slung around her shoulder. “Well, shall we get going? It’s a long walk to the market, and I want to get there soon.”

“You shouldn’t have talked so long!” Kinkajou scolded softly, but she stood as well, pulling Carnelian to her feet. With a careful sweep of the house to make sure there weren’t any fire hazards or unlocked windows, Moon grabbed her key- tied to a necklace so she wouldn’t use it, a holdover from when she was first allowed to go to town alone- and slipped out with the other girls.

The walk to town was filled with laughter. Kinkajou and Moon ran around like little girls, still young and carefree, while Carnelian walked slowly alongside Tamarin. The pooka seemed to take extra care with the blind woman, always minding where a stray stone or root might trip her up, but Tamarin just gave a smile and waved off her concerns with a hand. “I’m quite used to it by now, it’s alright.”

Carnelian tilted her head, humming. “What’s it like, not being able to see?”

Tamarin shrugged. “I don’t know. People act like it’s such a big waste, but for me that’s been my whole life. I mean, at this point I’m so used to it it’d be weird to suddenly see.”

Carnelian hummed. “Huh.” She nudged Tamarin out of the way of a stray root. “How does money work around here?”

Tamarin laughed. “Hasn’t Moon explained it to you yet? Moon, you’re failing your boarder.”

Moon sighed. “Yes, yes, blame me for everything. Never mind the fact that I have a farm to take care of.”

Kinkajou ran forward a few paces, dancing around the other three girls. “Burn the witch! She doesn’t understand economics!”

“I am not a witch!”

“Witch!”

Their banter took them the rest of the way to the village, with Moon giving valid reasons as to why she wasn’t a witch and Kinkajou just repeating the word again. Tamarin walked arm-in-arm with Carnelian, the two quietly keeping up a steady conversation about the nature of commerce.

A foreign merchant caught sight of them first, his bright red frock standing out next to his wooden cart piled high with fabrics of all sorts. “Ah, hello there, ladies! You’re here a little early, aren’t ya?”

She shrugged, pulling her hair out of her face. “That I am, sir. Early cat catches the vole, after all.”

“Ah, but the second vole gets the seed.” He held up a bolt of fine blue fabric. “See anything that catches your eye?”

Moon was about to say no, but Carnelian came up beside her, eyes narrowed. “What is that?” she asked.

The merchant grinned. “Ah, good eye, miss. This here is my finest fustian. Perfect for making a dress.”

Moon was enchanted with the beautiful fabric, but Carnelian rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me a rat and call it a dog, sir. Fustian makes a fine jacket, but it’d make a hideous dress.” She poked through a few other bundles of fabric. “Your denim is mislabeled as burlap, your mohair is just common wool, and the thread count in your cotton will fall apart at the slightest tug.” She gave the merchant a glare. “Explain this.”

The merchant’s smile quickly fell into a sneer. “How dare you,” he hissed, indignation in his voice. “I am an honest businessman, trying to sell my goods, and you call me a fraud?”

“Well, if it’s not malice, it’s incompetence.” Carnelian crossed her arms, eyes scanning the fabric choices again until they landed on something. “This,” she murmured, picking up a sheer, shimmering fabric. “How much were you going to price this?”

He scoffed. “What do you care? It’s grosgrain, anyway. It’s worth little more than a few pennies.”

“Whoever told you that is an idiot.” Carnelian shoved it back into his hands. “This is silk- granted, not very pretty silk, but silk nonetheless. Probably too pricy for folks out here to use, and not nearly practical enough, but in the city you could make a living selling this. I’d wager perhaps eighteen shillings a yard if you have better quality stuff, but even low-quality silk can be used in undergarments or to pad dresses.”

Kinkajou whistled. “Damn, Carnelian! How do you know so much about this?”

The pooka tensed, rocking on the balls of her heels. “It’s a bit of a long story. And not one for a day as beautiful as today.” She rolled her shoulders, beginning to head towards the clutter of town. “C’mon, I want to see everything.”

Something clicked in Moon’s brain. “Hey, wait a minute!” she hissed, grabbing Carnelian’s shoulder. “Not five minutes ago you were acting like you hadn’t even heard of money, and here you go with knowledge like this? Which is it?”

Carnelian whined, ducking her head. “Moon, I don’t want to talk about it-”

“Too bad!” Moon pulled Carnelian aside, frowning. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “All this time I thought you were some sort of feral woman, and yet you very obviously know a great deal about something most people wouldn’t give two wits about.”

Carnelian shook her head, leaning against the brick wall of the nearest building. “Look, my past is… varied, let’s say the least. But it hurts to think about.”

“I’m not asking for the whole story here, Carnelian. But some information would be nice.”

“But what if you find out the truth and you don’t want me anymore?”

“Not gonna happen,” Moon promised, taking Carnelian’s hands in her own.

Kinkajou tilted her head. “Er, did I miss something?”

Tamarin gave a warm smile, taking Kinkajou’s arm. “Let’s give our dear lovebirds some space, okay?”

Kinkajou sighed, shaking her head. “Alright, alright. Look, come find us near the fountain if you’re lost.”

Carnelian waited until the two of them were out of the line of sight before turning to Moonwatcher. She rocked back and forth for a minute, and Moon could practically see the words playing on her tongue. Finally, Carnelian sighed. “Can we… see some things, first? You talked about the marketplace, but so far all I’ve seen is the edge of town.”

Moon grinned. “You hungry? I know a guy who sells the best apple turnovers.” She dragged Carnelian to the stand, purchasing a turnover for Carnelian and a bottle of cider for later.

Carnelian sniffed at it as if it were poison, but took a tentative bite. Immediately her face lit up. “It’s good!”

“Told you it was.” Moon brushed a lock of stray hair out of Carnelian’s face, a warm smile on her face. “Let’s see what else you like.”

As it turned out, Carnelian liked a lot of things- dried seaweed, a foreign tea blend, colored sand, and a book on the proper keeping of goats. All together, it cost a good chunk of Moon’s allowance for the week, but the smile on Carnelian’s face was worth it.

As the day wore on, Moon found herself lounging on the edge of a fountain, undoing the braids in her hair to let it hang loose. Carnelian sat beside her, the goodies from throughout the day cradled in her arms. The pooka watched Moon with a warm expression on her face.

Moon let her fingers fall into the cool water, relaxing for the first time in a while. “I wonder how Kinkajou and Tamarin are doing.”

Carnelian shrugged. “They’re probably gathering what Tamarin needs.” She pulled the edge of her dress up and shuffled closer to Moon, her expression hardening into something more serious. “So… you wanted to know about my old life.”

“At least a bit of it, yes.” Moon wanted to be patient with Carnelian, but it stung that she didn’t trust her.

Carnelian shrugged. “I come from the Continent, that much is true. I don’t know where my homeland is- hell, I don’t even know if I _have_ a homeland. My pack was my parents, their siblings and siblings’ mates, my brothers and sisters, and my cousins, about thirty of us in total. We traveled all over the place, never really staying for more than a few months at a time.”

Moon frowned, trying to imagine such a life. The idea of constantly moving about, never having a home to go back to, seemed rather sad. “Did you like it?”

Carnelian scoffed. “No! We never left because we wanted to- people would find out that we were tainted and chase us out, or one of the grown-ups would kill someone and we’d have to flee, or a litter would grow up and we’d leave and let them have the territory.” She stretched, and Moon noticed a few coarse black hairs poking out along her arm. “Then we met this absolute bitch, and for some reason she convinced my parents that they should fight in her army for some reason, so they moved us over here.”

Moon frowned. “This ‘bitch’, do you remember her name?”

“Nope. Just that she had a dragon-scale cloak.” Peril sighed. “We came over, and boom! We get ambushed by this group of soldiers, they beat our asses, and then one of them grabs me and runs. ‘Course, as soon as the dust settles my parents are out of there, since at that point I was ten and I was supposed to fend for myself. But I wasn’t about to go back, so I kill the people who took me and run.”

Moon frowned. “How did you manage that? I thought soldiers gave you trouble.”

Carnelian snorted. “Yeah, now they do. But that’s because up until a few weeks ago, I wasn’t getting any food, and the stuff I was getting was usually rotten. Plus, my combat training is useless without practice, and deer don’t make good sparring partners.” She gave a jagged grin.

Moon rolled her eyes affectionately, pressing a soft kiss to Carnelian’s palm. The pooka growled with embarrassment, covering her face with her hands, pulling a laugh from Moon. “You’re adorable.”

“Am not,” Carnelian growled, but the red on her cheeks was proof enough.

Moon frowned as tufts of black fur began to poke out from Carnelian’s ear, and she cussed lightly, unclasping her cape. “Stay still,” she ordered as she pulled the hood up and over Carnelian’s head, hiding the tufted ears that were beginning to poke out from her head. “We can’t be having a witch hunt in the middle of the market.” Once the ears were hidden, Moon pulled out a pair of gloves, handing them to Carnelian. “Here, your claws are coming out.”

Carnelian huffed, fidgeting with the extra fabric on her. “Humans,” she growled, but she did as asked. “Do you want to hear the rest of the story, or not?”

Moon shook her head. “No.” She was surprised at her answer, but she continued. “Thank you. For letting me know.” She held her hand out. “C’mon, I have something I want to show you.”

Carnelian took her hand cautiously, and Moon pulled her to her feet. The young lady laughed as she dragged her lover along, weaving through the thickening crowds, until they were sequestered away in a thick network of alleyways. Ivy crawled up the stone walls, thin flowers hanging off of them in all sorts of colors. A bee flitted lazily from a honeysuckle blossom to a jasmine bloom, buzzing with contentment.

Finally they stopped at the end of a cobblestone alley. Above Moon’s head hung a sign that looked even worse than last time, the paint of _Remedies and Recipes_ chipping away with every passing day.

Carnelian squinted at the chickenscratch writing, eyes flashing gold for a moment. “Is this some sort of apiarist, too?”

“Close.” Moon tapped on the handle twice before pushing the door open. The chimes above the threshold jangled, and a familiar head popped up.

“Moonie! Oh, it’s good to see you, darling!” Siamang plopped a bundle of lavender on the counter and quickly scurried around the table, pulling Moon into a tight hug. “It’s been so long, Liana said you must have married some fetching thing.”

Moon gave a half-grin. “Well, she’s half-right.” She gestured to Carnelian. “This is Carnelian.”

Carnelian gave a dip of her head. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh!” They took her hand gently, giving it a shake. “And a pleasure to meet you, darling. Come in, have some tea, rest a while.”

Moon sighed, shaking her head. “No can do, Si. I’m running low on some of my ingredients.”

Siamang sighed. “It’s always something. Fine, let me guess- incense, fennel, and John the Conqueror?”

She grinned. “You know me so well.” She handed the money over carefully, before pulling out a charm. “Here. Something tells me you’ve lost the one I gave you.”

They gave an embarrassed chuckle, rubbing the back of their neck. “I hate to admit it, but it’s true.”

Carnelian cleared her throat softly. “Moon? Why did you bring me here?”

“Oh!” Moon clapped her hands lightly. “Si, do you have any hag stones?

Siamang gave a disbelieving look. “Really? Can’t you find that with your weird druid magic?” Still, he rummaged around behind the counter for a few moments before reappearing with a jagged rock, lopsided save for a perfectly circular hole bored straight through the middle. “Here. Found it washed up against the causeway a few months ago.” He held it up, glancing through the hole. “Why you ask? Planning on an enchantment?”

Moon snorted. “Hardly. Here- for your pains.” She handed over around a dozen silver coins and four gold to Siamang, along with a bundle of rowan, ivy, boxwood, and blackberry woods. “A wreath, for protection.”

Siamang sighed. “Sooner or later, you’ll catch trouble with the church.”

“Hardly. Protective herbs aren’t something the Church has time for, not with the war going on.” She handed the hag stone over to Carnelian. “Here. For you.”

Carnelian held it up carefully, holding it up to her eye. “So, what’s so special about this? It just looks like a rock to me.”

“Hag stones are rare,” Siamang explained. “Formed naturally, by the course of water, they protect against evil magicks and sickness.”

Carnelian’s pupils swelled, and she held it close to her heart. “Thank you,” she murmured softly, her voice soft.

Moon grinned. “Think nothing of it, love.” She pulled a bit of hair back from Carnelian’s face, enjoying the way that Carnelian leaned into the touch. “Now, why don’t we find Kinkajou and Tamarin?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know how I said the end of May? Yeah.... shit came up. I'm sorry. This story isn't dead, I promise. And two of our favorite guys will be appearing very soon.


End file.
